Deux gentilhommes-poètes de la cour de Henry VIII

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E. Plon, Nourrit et cie., 1891 - 388 pages

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Page 142 - And when this song is sung and past, My lute, be still, for I have done. As to be heard where ear is none, As lead to grave in marble stone, My Song may pierce her heart as soon. Should we then sigh, or sing, or moan? No, no, my lute, for I have done.
Page 144 - In winter nights, that are so cold, Plaining in vain unto the moon ; Thy wishes then dare not be told : Care then who list, for I have done.
Page 167 - With silver drops the mead yet spread for ruth, In active games of nimbleness and strength, Where we did strain, trained with swarms of youth, Our tender limbs, that yet shot up in length. The secret groves, which oft we made resound Of pleasant plaint, and of our ladies...
Page 143 - The rocks do not so cruelly Repulse the waves continually, As she my suit and affection: So that I am past remedy; Whereby my lute and I have done. Proud of the spoil that thou hast got Of simple hearts...
Page 88 - But one thing, good master secretary, consider, that he was young, and love overcame reason ; and for my part, I saw so much honesty in him that I loved him as well as he did me, and was in bondage, and glad I was to be at liberty : so that for my part, I saw that all the world did set so little by me, and he so much, that I thought I could take no better way but to take him and to forsake all other ways, and live a poor honest life with him...
Page 167 - Recordyng ofte what grace eche one had founde, What hope of spede, what dreade of long delayes...
Page 162 - I saw the little boy in thought how oft that he Did wish of God, to 'scape the rod, a tall young man to be.
Page 270 - London, hast thow accused me Of breche of lawes, the roote of stryfe? Within whose brest did boyle to see, So fervent hotte, thy dissolute lief, That even the hate of synnes, that groo...
Page 276 - No company so pleasant as myne owne. Thraldom at large hath made this prison fre, Danger well past remembred workes delight: Of lingring doutes such hope is sprong pardie, That nought I finde displeasaunt in my sight: But when my glasse presented vnto me, The...
Page 144 - And then may chance thee to repent The time that thou hast lost and spent To cause thy lovers sigh and swoon: Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, And wish and want as I have done. Now cease, my lute : this is the last Labour that thou and I shall waste, And ended is that we begun. Now is this song both sung and past: My lute be still, for I have done.

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